


Snap Out of It

by sotherby



Series: Kiss Me and Hit the Road [2]
Category: It's Always Sunny in Philadelphia
Genre: Alternate Universe - 1950s, Alternate Universe - High School, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-12-12
Updated: 2013-12-12
Packaged: 2018-01-04 10:05:23
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 576
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1079682
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sotherby/pseuds/sotherby
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"You better watch your mouth, Reynolds."</p>
<p>Dennis smirked. “Make me.”</p>
            </blockquote>





	Snap Out of It

**Author's Note:**

> apparently i'm naming all of these after songs from am by the arctic monkeys ¯\\_(ツ)_/¯

Everybody this side of Philly knew the abandoned shop-front opposite the movie theatre was their turf. Well, that’s what Mac told his dad on prison visits, anyway, and he seemed impressed enough. He preferred not to mention that the only reason people left them alone was because Charlie scared them off by barking like a dog and throwing rocks at passers by. He was proud of his gang of misfits, though. They had a reputation. Which meant they were totally badass.

One of the new recruits, some kid who had clearly borrowed his dad’s jacket, started whooping and tapping frantically on Mac’s shoulder.

"Check it out," he cried, "it’s rich boy Reynolds!"

Mac’s heart sank. “Dennis Reynolds?”

"Who else, dude?" said Charlie, already gathering stones with a maniacal glint in his eyes. "Let’s take him out!"

And, fuck, it was true. There he was heading towards the movie theatre, looking absolutely ridiculous and lovely with his expensive sport jacket and carefully tousled hair. God, Mac hated him. He held out his palm, pacifying his friends and inwardly cursing himself for feeling like such a girl. “Hold up. Don’t throw rocks. I wanna handle this myself.”

"If you say so," shrugged Charlie, stuffing his rocks into his pockets. Mac took a deep breath.

"Reynolds!" He called, crossing the road with his hands jammed deep in his pockets, hoping to god his false bravado wasn’t failing him completely. Dennis jumped, flinching, and shit, this was stupid. "What are you doing here? You know this is our turf."

Dennis collected himself quickly, crossing his arms and scrutinising Mac with his usual haughty expression. “This is your turf?” He said, incredulous, “It’s a street corner. Nobody cares about your loser gang, anyway. Nobody even knows who you are.”

"You better watch your mouth, Reynolds."

Dennis smirked. “Make me.”

Mac lunged forward, grabbing Dennis by the front of his stupid jacket and pushing him with force against the nearest wall. Somewhere under the frantic pounding loud in his ears he could hear the distant noise of his friends cheering him on from across the street.

"Don’t make me hit you," he breathed, fists tightening on the expensive fabric under his grip.

"You wouldn’t dare," said Dennis, confident. It was true, but Mac wasn’t about to admit that in a hurry. He continued, infuriatingly smug; "I can feel how hard you are right now. Wouldn’t want your little gang finding out about that, would you?"

"Fuck you," was all Mac could manage. He swallowed."You’re totally hot too." And with that, he shifted his hips, proving his point when Dennis groaned, tipping his head back with a thunk against the bricks behind him.

"We can’t do this here," he panted, fighting for breath, "It’s too - fuck. Your friends are watching. Let go. Just pretend you got me and we’ll meet up tonight."

Mac let go, nodding. He couldn’t help but feel a thrill of satisfaction at how completely wrecked Dennis looked as he attempted to adjust his ruined jacket. 

"Later, Reynolds," he said, pushing away from the wall and lighting a cigarette. Dennis scowled.

"This doesn’t mean you’ve won," he said, inspecting the damage. "You’re still a street scum loser."

"And you’re still a rich boy square."

Mac snorted, blowing smoke through his nostrils. Once he’d cooled down completely he rejoined his friends, who hollered and declared him a champion. He shrugged, telling them it was nothing. Which it was. Totally nothing.


End file.
